Shape the Water
by managements
Summary: This story chronicles Effy Rosenburg's adventures in Bon Temps, from moving there as a human to leaving as a vampire. Sam/Sookie/Bill make cameos. Rated T for now, but it'll probably move up to M later in the story.


A/N: This story doesn't really have anything to do with Sookie or the main cast of the Southern Vampire Mysteries, but it's set in their world and they do make a few cameo appearances. The story follows Effy Rosenburg and her adventures in Bon Temps. This is my first story, so please R&R. Constructive criticism is always welcome. The title comes from the song "Parasol" by the Sea and Cake.

Disclaimer: Bon Temps and the Southern Vampire gang all, sadly, belong to Charlaine Harris (although I did almost win them in a poker game once, I swear).

* * *

I decided to move to Bon Temps shortly after I graduated college. I don't know why, out of all the places in the world, I chose Bon Temps, but I guess it kind of called to me. I had mostly lived in the north all my life, and though I loved snow and cold weather, I wanted a change.

Anyway, I loved Bon Temps from the very first moment I set my eyes on it. It was completely different from everything I had known before; neighbors ignored each other if possible where I came from, but the residents of Bon Temps all seemed to know each other. I had never really liked gossip (which I guessed would run rampant in a place like that), but I loved people (and they generally loved me too). This was my place.

I bought a cute little trailer (there were more trailers than houses in Bon Temps, for some reason) placed ever-so-slightly back in the woods, back just enough for privacy but not so much that I was completely cut off from civilization. I had studied English language in college, so I had no idea what I was going to do about getting a job. I had originally intended to be an editor when I graduated (for books, not magazines) and I had no idea how the hell that would help me in a place like Bon Temps. I didn't see a lot of publishing houses around.

I'll admit that I was kind of lonely at first. I had no family, no friends, no connections. I knew that I was now in a close community, but I didn't know how they took to outsiders. So when my door was knocked on one day, I was completely baffled. Who would want to talk to me?

I timidly opened the door, semi-expecting a horde of angry villagers with pitchforks coming to kill the beast (I don't know where I got the Beauty & the Beast reference from. Bear with me, I was nervous). So when I saw a little elderly lady holding up a bowl of green jello, I smiled widely. She was very short, I'd guess around five feet, and had short hair colored almost completely gray with little strands of black here and there, like she'd started off with gray hair and then it started going black. Her fingers were short and dirty, and I hoped she'd washed them before making the jello.

"Hello, dear," she said, in a raspy voice. Sounded like little old lady was a smoker.

I broadened my smile. "Hello."

She stepped in, without waiting to be invited. Looking around my trailer with interest, she offered me the bowl. "A little welcoming present," she said with a smile.

"Thank you so much!" I replied, sincerely. Hopefully there was no angry mob, and they all didn't just get stuck in traffic or something.

"I'm Sarah Fitch," she said, extending her hand to me. "You have a lovely place here. I live right next door."

"Effy Rosenburg," I responded. "So nice to meet you."

"Would you mind if I asked where you're from? Your accent, you see," she asked hesitantly. I guess she thought I'd be angry or something.

"Of course not," I said. I didn't want her to feel uncomfortable. How great would it be if the first person I talk to here, I alienate? "I'm originally from New York, but I moved to Philadelphia when I was thirteen."

"Oh you poor thing!" she gasped. "How horrible it must have been, moving around like that."

I stared at her. I'd only moved once. Was she okay? Of course, she probably had like a mental problem or something. Great. "Well, it wasn't that bad," I said, trying to be diplomatic.

"Of course," she said, I guess trying to be understanding or something. "Listen, dear, you only just moved in, right? Have you found a job yet?"

"Actually, no, I haven't," I said, sighing. "I'm afraid I won't find anything that suits me here. Do you know any jobs that I could use an English degree for?" I inquired hopefully. Maybe Mrs. Fitch was in the loop and could help me find a job.

"I'm afraid not," she responded, grinning sheepishly. "Not a lot of people read down here."

"Ah, nuts." I would've said a different word, but I don't know if Mrs. Fitch would take kindly to that. "Do you know if there are any openings anywhere? I really need to find a job."

"Hmm..." She pursed her lips while she thought. "I think Sam Merlotte's looking for a new waitress. You might want to try there."

"Great! That'd be perfect." I couldn't believe I had ever thought she was crazy. What a sweet old lady!

"Are you doing anything right now? I could take you down to the bar and help you put in your application. It's always good if you have a recommendation," she said, winking knowledgeably.

"No, I'm not doing anything. That'd be great. Thank you so much!" I had waitressed once in college, and it wasn't my favorite thing. Standing around all the time, being hit on by overweight, middle-aged men with beer guts hanging over their too-tight belts. Fun. But I was desperate, and I would take what I'd get. And I'd be damn good at it.

* * *

Five minutes later, I walked into Merlotte's with Mrs. Fitch. It wasn't a far walk there from my trailer, and that was perfect, since I didn't have a car and probably wouldn't be able to save up my cash until I got on my feet. Mrs. Fitch paraded me around for a while, I guess showing off that she knew the new person before anyone else. I didn't mind much. I mean, she was getting me a job, who was I to complain? And there were some interesting characters in Bon Temps.

Eventually we made it to the back of the restaurant, where Mrs. Fitch told me to wait and proceeded through a big door labeled "Employee's Only." I hoped she wasn't an employee. She was sweet and everything, but I wouldn't want to work with her.

She returned after a minute or two, toting a man that I could only guess would be Sam Merlotte. He was .... pretty cute, actually. Tall - taller than me - with shaggy blond hair that hung over his clear blue eyes. His body was well-built, and I could tell that even though he looked kind of skinny he was muscular. Oh yeah, I could work here. "Sam, this is that nice girl I was telling you about, Effy," Mrs. Fitch said. "She needs a job," she continued. "I was thinking that she would make a great waitress. Isn't she pretty? She'd definitely bring in a lot of customers." Huh. So Mrs. Fitch was trying to sugarcoat me. I guess Sam didn't really need a new waitress after all.

Sam sized me up, lingering on my chest. Wow. Awkward. I mean, I guess I was pretty. I was sort of taller than most women at five foot six, with long blond hair that reached ten inches past my shoulder (I needed to get it cut soon. It was too hot in Louisiana for long hair like that). My eyes were large, almond shaped, and colored a weird blue-green-gray combination, that changed depending on what color I wore. My face was round, a little too full compared to my body, which was kind of curvy and chubby. I wasn't fat, but I wasn't as skinny as I'd like to have been, and I definitely had some boobs. So I could kind of understand his interest. I mean, hadn't I done the same thing to him? But still, it was weird.

Sam sighed. "Look, Mrs. Fitch, I really don't have any openings left," he said exasperatedly. Hm, maybe Mrs. Fitch did this often? From Sam's tone, it sounded like it.

"Oh really, Sam, have a heart!" Mrs. Fitch declared. "She just moved here, she doesn't know anyone, and she needs a job. How would you feel if you were in her position?" Sam started squirming. I guess Mrs. Fitch usually wins these fights, haha. It was pretty hilarious. Watching a short old lady manipulate a guy like Sam. I tried to stifle my laugh, but Sam heard and looked up at me. I quickly looked down at my feet, pretending that I hadn't done anything wrong.

"Dammit!" he muttered under his breath. Louder, "Fine, when can you start?"

"Right now," I said, smiling. Thank you, Mrs. Fitch.

Sam grabbed an apron from a nearby shelf, throwing it at me. "Your uniform is black shorts and a white shirt, with black shoes. Welcome to Merlotte's."

"Ay ay, Captain," I laughed.

He just stared at me.


End file.
